The Tale of Aranel
by Senna Raye
Summary: I've written chapter 9! Wooo-hooo! Oh yeah, summary: Aranel unwittingly uncovers an alliance between Saruman and a prince of Mirkwood (but not the one you're thinking of) Please read!
1. Prolouge

On the day Aranel was born, her mother was visited by an Oracle who prophesized that her newborn daughter would grow to be a savior to the elves. She would be the one to save Mirkwood from darkness. At that time, the forest began to decline. Evil was beginning to stir in the East, and fearful creatures were beginning to appear in the deepest parts of the wood. King Thranduil was greatly saddened by the state of his kingdom, and agreed with the Oracle that Aranel should be betrothed to his eldest son, Belegtathar.  
  
And so Aranel came to live with the royal family when she was 1,999 years of age. She was made a Lady of the Royal House and soon earned the air of one who had lived in a state of power all her life. And yet a hundred years passed, and Belegtathar time and again found ways to postpone their wedding. In fact, she had barely ever spoken to him. Most of the time he was either away at some battle, or else traveling. When she was around him, Belegtathar acted almost as if he were afraid of her. He avoided eye contact, and made excuses to leave as often as possible. Now lately he had gone to ignoring her completely.  
  
It wasn't as if Aranel minded. She actually dreaded the day when the two of them would finally be married. All it would take would be his approval, and they would be joined at once. But since no one could force a decision from the stubborn prince, it was merely a waiting game.  
  
Aranel spent her time waiting with Belegtathar's three younger brothers. They had grown to be close friends, and acted more like a family than anything else. She enjoyed talking with them, and going out on foot or horseback. They had even taught her how to fight and shoot an arrow (all in secret, of course). In return, Aranel used her beautiful voice to tell of the many myths and legends she knew. Aranel had a gift at story telling, and could hold a whole room of the finest elven warriors spellbound by the sweetest of love stories.  
  
This brings us to the beginning of my tale. A tale much like those Aranel loved.  
  
A tale of danger...  
  
A tale of war...  
  
One of betrayal, of love, adventure, and more. 


	2. Horseback riding and dinner conversation...

The sun was completely shrouded with a blanket of thick, dark clouds and even though it was still mid-morning, it seemed more like it was late in the evening. Most elves were discouraged by bad weather, and darkness tended to make them nervous, but Aranel had found an unsusual calm.  
  
"And how are you doing this dreary day, fair lady?" asked Malkemen, one of the king's sons.  
  
"Much the same as always, my friend," she answered as she swung herself over a horse's back. The horse seemed worried by the threat of rain, and Aranel stroked his mane to calm him. It wasn't exactly the ideal day for riding, but Aranel had insisted that she would not change plans. Malkemen was the first to stop arguing, and eventually decided to join her.  
  
He gave his horse a biscuit before leaping on, and turned it to face Aranel's. "So you're sure you want to go out today? It looks like it's going to rain any moment now."  
  
Aranel smiled. "Then we should leave soon, and be back before the clouds break."  
  
Malkemen shook his head slowly, but smiled. Aranel was stubborn once her mind was made up. Then he suddenly looked off in the distance and became quite serious. "Belegtathar should be returning soon," he said. "We received word that he is riding from the South."  
  
Aranel smirked. "Then let's ride West." And with a kick to her steed, they were off.  
  
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Deep in the ground below the two riders, a foul creature was lying against the stone wall of his prison cell. Just then a guard came in to feed him his morning meal.  
  
"What's thissssss? No fisssshesssss again, my precioussssss..."  
  
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That evening, Belegtathar did indeed returned from his travels, and delighted in telling his company about the adventures he had experienced. At the supper table, he told his father and brothers about how he was attacked in the middle of the night by a black creature, which moved so fast he never saw what it looked like. And how he came across a fairie while he rested at a pond. And of the unusual elves he came across, that preferred the dark underground to the bright sunlight. He went on and on, obviously making up much of his tale as he went along. But Aranel and the occupants of the table listened intently on what he was saying, until finally Belegtathar decided they had heard enough.  
  
"Well, now Belegtathar, that certainly was an entertaining story," Nimhithdil said with a laugh. "Though I'm sure our Aranel could do much better."  
  
"So where were you, truly, Belegtathar?" Legolas asked. "Or are you again refusing to enlighten us?"  
  
Belegtathar did not answer, not even a smile crossed his lips. Instead, he changed the subject. "How have things been in Mirkwood, my father? What of that prisoner, that has been in our care for years now?"  
  
"The prisoner?" Malkemen asked, surprised. "Such things should not be discussed over a meal."  
  
"Gollum has been in the same place as when you left, my son," Thranduil spoke. "Though it is not a matter you need to be worrying about. Marriage, on the other hand..."  
  
"But Mithrandil told us to care for this Gollum, did he not?" Belegtathar objected. "He had hoped that there was still a chance of his recovery."  
  
"I see no hope in that creature ever recovering, no matter what we do," Legolas added quietly.  
  
"Mithrandir at least wanted us to try. Who are we to refuse the advice of a wizard?" Belegtathar stood and pulled away from his chair. "It has been weeks since he's walked in the sunlight. I am going to take him out again on the morrow."  
  
With that, Belegtathar left the table, leaving Aranel again exasperated by his complete ignorance of her. The king shook his head.  
  
"Do not fret, little Princess," he told her, "Belegtathar has a strange spirit about him, but I am sure that he will make his decision soon." It was what King Thranduil had been telling her for the past hundred years.  
  
"It's not something to worry about, Aranel. When Belegtathar gets around to refusing to marry, you shall just stay as our little sister," Nimhithdil laughed. His brothers looked scornfully at him, but Aranel did not mind his rude comment. She secretly hoped that Belegtathar would refuse her.  
  
She never wanted to marry. 


	3. A song in the rain...

That night, the rain fell from the sky mercilessly; threatening to drowned the entire world with water. Aranel could not sleep. She left the pavilion that was her room, and walked out into the downpour. It was only a matter of seconds before she was drenched completely. The sound of water falling on leaves was all even an elf could hear.  
  
Aranel began to sing. And though her words could not be heard, not even by herself, she spoke with all the passion she could muster. It was a story, she told. And there was a fair elven maiden who lived by the sea. And though the water was beautiful, she longed to be elsewhere, somewhere where the trees grew tall and green, the leaves would fall like snowflakes, and the flowers grew in fields as vast as seas. But the maiden could not leave her home. For she was trapped there by a spell that no one could break. So she would sit by the water and cry, cry out for someone to come and bring her back to the forest.  
  
"So come to me, to set me free  
  
And take me back to where you be  
  
Where the fields, they take a hold of me  
  
And the trees, they seem to talk of thee  
  
You live by the wood, but I by the sea  
  
And the spell, that will never end in me."  
  
Aranel finished her song, without really realizing that it was over. The rain still came down as strong as ever, and the lavender dress that she wore was as good as scrap. It would take days to dry, if it was even worth saving. Aranel turned to go back to her room, when she was started by a figure standing a few paces behind her in the rain. She realized that it was Malkemen.  
  
The elven prince walked towards her, until his face was just inches from her own.  
  
"That was a beautiful song," he told her.  
  
"How could you have heard?" Aranel asked, skeptically.  
  
He just smiled, and looked out into the rain. "Couldn't sleep?" Aranel shook her head. "Neither could I." Lightning pierced the sky, and Aranel could not help but jump in surprise. The forest was momentarily a lit, and she was sure she saw something crawling through the woods out of the corner of her eye. There was a glint of light reflected back to her, perhaps from a piece of metal or decoration.  
  
"There's something over there," she said.  
  
Malkemen did not respond. Perhaps he did not hear her. "We'd best get under roof. That dress of yours will never come clean again." He motioned to the hem, which was now coated completely black with mud. "I hope that you rest well tonight, Aranel. Do not let the storm bother you."  
  
And then Malkemen walked away. Within moments he was out of her sight. Aranel was quite afraid of what she saw, now that Malkemen was gone. Something about that flash of light filled her with dread. She hurried back to her room, closed all the doors and windows, though that would not give her much protection. She pulled off the sopping dress, muttering to herself.  
  
"It was probably nothing, Aranel. You are safe within the king's home, you know that." She put on a dry nightdress, and began to brush out her matted hair.  
  
"You shouldn't have been out in the rain, anyway." 


	4. Waterfalls and morning walks...

The sun rose the next morning to find that all the rain clouds had gone. Mirkwood Forest had turned into a swamp; mud covered everything, and leaves floated around in puddles like little boats. Aranel had not drifted to sleep until well after the rain had stopped, which was only a few hours earlier, yet she was still up with the first rays of light.  
  
She pulled open the shades in her room to let the much-welcomed light in. Aranel walked over her mirror and realized the state her hair was in.  
  
"Uh," she breathed as she ran her fingers through her soiled hair. She decided to head straight for the pond to wash.  
  
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Aranel walked down to the pond, avoiding the mud with a grace only an elf could have. She reached the water's edge, and slipped behind the waterfall. It was one of her favorite places. There was a comfortable rock to sit on, and the water coming over the falls distorted the forest beyond it. It was her secret spot, where no one else ever came. It was the perfect spot.  
  
She undressed and leaned forward to carefully dip her head in the fresh mist. It helped clear her head, having the cool water run down her face.  
  
Many peaceful minutes past, but then a feeling began to irk in the back of her mind. It was very faint, but it reminded her of the way she felt last night, when the lightning flashed.  
  
She tossed her wet hair over her head, and pushed the loose strands from her face. Aranel clutched her dress and looked out from the edge of the waterfall, but she could see nothing. She went back under the falls, but the feeling returned, stronger this time. Then she noticed the tiny pinprick of light off in the corner of her eye. Aranel spun around.  
  
Out in the distance was Belegtathar. And the glint came from a jewel on his scabbard. He was out on a walk with that Gollum. The grayish creature was jumping into the trees, swinging from the branches, and staying as far in the shadows as he could.  
  
Belegtathar sure wasn't keeping him on a short leash.  
  
That's when she heard it. Drums. Drums that seemed to come from every direction. Her eyes swept the horizon, but she could not see where they originated. She didn't have to. They were Orc drums.  
  
Belegtathar did not seem to look worried. But then, why would he be? He was a warrior; it was usually him out looking for them, so of course he was not concerned that this time it was the other way around. He looked back up to the trees.  
  
Aranel noticed that Gollum was gone. 


	5. An enemy unmasked...

Aranel threw her dress over her head and crept back into the alcove behind the waterfall. Belegtathar would be angry to find that the prisoner escaped, especially what with all the trouble that was soon to be upon them. The Orc drums beat louder, yet Belegtathar did not move. He stood there, looking up at the trees with disinterest, as if he were waiting for someone.  
  
There was movement in the distance. And Aranel nearly screamed. Out from behind one of the trees came an Orc. It walked up casually behind Belegtathar, without him even turning. The Orc drew his weapon, a long sword with a notched blade. He raised his arm and prepared to swing.  
  
Aranel was about to shout out a warning to Belegtathar, when the Orc's blade came crashing down, and slammed itself into a nearby tree.  
  
"Talk fast, I'd sooner kill you than stand here and brave your hideous stench," Belegtathar sneered. The Orc growled.  
  
"Everything is as planned," He hissed. "I have many of my finest troops attacking the royal home as we speak." Aranel gasped. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "And what of the prisoner?"  
  
"Long gone," Belegtathar answered. "Long, long gone."  
  
The Orc nodded, grabbed his sword, then ran as fast as he could away from the site. Belegtathar still stood there, and still stared up at the trees just as he had before, as if nothing had taken place.  
  
Aranel found an inopportune time to slip on a loose rock, and she fell, right out from behind the waterfall. Belegtathar's eyes bolted to her like lightning.  
  
"Aranel!"  
  
"Belegtathar, what was that?" Aranel pleaded, hoping that she had somehow misunderstood what had just taken place. Or at least imagined the whole thing. He was walking toward her, and Aranel got shakily up to her feet.  
  
"You shouldn't be here," Belegtathar practically growled. Then he pounced. He jumped at Aranel, one hand went over her mouth, while the other pulled out a sharp dagger. He slammed her into the rocks beside the water, then fell to the ground. Aranel let out a muffled scream. She kicked at him, and struggled as best as she could, but Belegtathar far overpowered her. He brought the knife down at her, but she moved just in time. She grabbed his wrist and tried to turn the knife back at him, but he just responded with hitting her hard on the side of the head. Aranel wriggled as much as she could, kicking at him and punching him, and trying her hardest to roll him off of her.  
  
He got up to his knees, still pinning her to the ground, and slapped her again with all his might. He rose and kicked her. Aranel was completely dazed; she could barely cling on to consciousness. Then, for a split moment, she found herself. She kicked up, hard, catching the back of his knee. Belegtathar went down on one foot, and Aranel took the opportunity to fling herself at him. Aranel finally had the upper hand. Belegtathar was slammed to the ground, and Aranel grabbed the knife from his startled grasp. She threw it down at him, but stopped just before it entered flesh. Blood flowed from the tip of the knife; it had scratched him just enough to draw blood.  
  
"Do it," he said. But Aranel could not will her arms to lower any further. The face that stared up at her was evil; it had changed since she had last looked upon it. These were not the features of Belegtathar, but of something else. Something that had consumed who the great elf once was. So then why did Aranel find it so hard to kill it?  
  
"Weak," the monster said, shaking his head. And with that, he grabbed her arm, and bent it backward, pointing the knife at Aranel's heart. They paused, and neither drew breath. Then she did something that Belegtathar did not expect. She brought the knife toward her, pulling free of Belegtathar's grasp, but missing her own skin by a mere hair. She turned the blade and struck Belegathar in the chest. A look of shock crossed his face as Aranel twisted the handle.  
  
She looked away. She couldn't stand the gaze of his eyes looking at her as his life slipped away.  
  
She looked up, and looked straight into the eyes of Legolas. 


	6. (the untitled chapter that I hate)

The Orcs had finally been pushed back out of the forest. They may have been strong and numerous, but they didn't know the trees like the elves did. But they did manage to leave their mark before they left. Many trees and roofs were still smoldering from recent fires. Few had lost their lives, yet for the families of those who had mourning began. And it would soon become common knowledge that among the dead was Mirkwood's heir, Belegtathar.  
  
  
  
Legolas did not know how to react when he saw Aranel, one of his best friends, bent over the body of his dead brother. There was an Orc knife in her hand. A thousand thoughts had to be running through his mind, none of which made any sense.  
  
How could she?  
  
Aranel jumped to her feet, then looked down at herself. Blood had splattered all over herself, and the dripping knife was still in her hand.  
  
"Legolas," she whispered as the tears began to flow. "Please, I didn't- he was-"  
  
Legolas did not stay to hear her pleas of innocence. He turned and ran.  
  
Aranel didn't care that she was surely running to her death, that Legolas had given her a possibly inadvertent chance at escaping, but she took off after him. She had to at least try to explain herself, explain to them who Belegtathar was…  
  
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Legolas burst into the King's throne room, where a recount of all that had happened during the attack was being relayed to Thranduil. A look of great distress was planted across his face. Aranel ran in just moments later, stopping at the door and collapsing in weariness she had never felt before.  
  
"Belegtathar is dead!" Legolas shouted, his voice clearly strained. He turned to where Aranel had collapsed. "And she is the one who killed him."  
  
Malkemen and Nimhithdil turned immediately to face Legolas. They did not believe what they were hearing. Aranel used all of her strength to pull herself back to her feet.  
  
"Please, you have to listen to me…" Aranel pleaded.  
  
"What is the meaning of this, my son?" Thranduil asked, standing himself.  
  
"It is just as I said. Aranel is a traitor, and a murderer!" He yelled. Silence followed, for several long moments Aranel had to face the eyes of all that where in the room. They took in her bloody dress, the scratches on her arms, the knife that she had forgotten to drop…  
  
"Aranel, is what he says true?" Malkemen asked her finally, breaking the unbearable silence.  
  
"No," she said as her strength gave out, and she slipped back to the floor. "And yes."  
  
"What does that mean?" Malkemen shouted, but his voice was overpowered by that of his father's.  
  
"What happened, exactly, Legolas? If my son is truly dead, I must know why."  
  
A guard grabbed Aranel by the arm and sat her down on a chair, as Legolas began to tell what he saw. He told them that he was out in the woods, heading to help push the Orcs out of the forest. That's when he came across Aranel. She attacked Belegtathar by surprise, and pinned him to the ground. There was an Orc knife in her hand. Her face was twisted in hate as she brought the knife down on him.  
  
"That isn't all that happened!" Aranel shouted. But Thranduil raised his hand to silence her.  
  
"You will have your chance to speak. Go on, Legolas."  
  
"It was a perfect cover," Legolas continued. "Aranel was never pleased with Belegtathar, and we all know this to be true. There were Orcs swarming everywhere. No one would ever know that it was she, and not an Orc who had killed the heir of Mirkwood."  
  
"How could you accuse me of such an outrageous story?" Aranel shrieked. But Legolas merely walked over to her, and picked up the bloody knife. It was indeed an Orc's knife.  
  
"Outrageous? I think not."  
  
"What do you have to say to all of this, Aranel?" the king asked.  
  
Aranel took a deep breath, "Belegtathar was a traitor! I saw it with my own eyes. He was conversing with an Orc! And then he attacked me, knocking me right to the ground!"  
  
"You were both standing when I first saw you, and it was you who knocked him down," Legolas interrupted. "There where no Orcs when I arrived."  
  
"Let her speak, Legolas!" Malkemen said.  
  
"Are you not listening to what she is saying, Malkemen?" Nimhithdil asked. "She is saying that our brother is a traitor."  
  
"It's impossible!" Legolas added.  
  
"Just answer us this, Aranel," Thranduil said. "Did you stab Belegtathar?"  
  
Aranel looked around. Her three best friends, who were practically her brothers, all awaited her answer. They would not believe the truth. They didn't want to hear it. Perhaps it would be better this way. No matter what she told them, it wouldn't change the fact that she took his life. So Aranel decided to give in.  
  
"Yes, I did. I killed him." 


	7. A secret rescue...

Aranel leaned against the hard stonewalls of the prison cell. It was very dark, darker than anything she had ever known in her life. She was trapped, and a voice inside her head was screaming to be released.  
  
But the rest of her had given up. She knew what she had done and that there was no way to make it right. Her friends would never forgive her, and she would spend the rest of her life right here, in the dark underground…  
  
She had no way of knowing just how long she had been down there. There was no longer such a thing as time. There was a scrap of bread in the morning, and a rotting piece of meat at night. Besides that there was no proof that the world outside her prison any longer existed.  
  
Then one day (or perhaps it was night?) Aranel had a visitor. A cloaked figure had appeared in the hall outside her cell, and had lit the torch that the elf that brought her food always lit. But it didn't seem time for another meal.  
  
"Hello?" she dared to whisper. Her voice was very dry, and it was clearly evident that she hadn't spoken in days. The cloaked figure walked over to her cell, and passed a flask through the bars. Aranel grabbed it, and drank without even caring as to what it might be. It turned out to be water.  
  
"Thank you, whoever you are," Aranel whispered, and turned to lie in a corner. But the hooded figure did not leave. Instead, he mumbled her name.  
  
"Aranel."  
  
She turned back to him, and crawled back to the cell bars. "Who are you?"  
  
"A friend," the cloaked stranger grumbled. He was clearly disguising his voice, in order not to be identified. Then he pulled a ring out from under his cloak. On it was a set of keys.  
  
He fit one of the keys into the lock of her cell, and quietly opened the door. Aranel didn't know what to think, but she sure wasn't going to pass up a path to freedom. "Follow me," he told her, and they headed deeper into the underground prison. They walked for what seemed like hours, turning this way and that, and taking hidden passages that looked as if they hadn't been used in years. Finally, just as the torch began to die out, a light began to shine through the crevices in the rock tunnels. They were almost out.  
  
Finally they came to an exit, and Aranel walked out into the sunlight. She closed her eyes, and took in the feeling of the warm light on her skin. Then she turned to her mysterious savior.  
  
"Who are you?" Aranel breathed. But she already knew who it was under that cloak. He lifted his hands up to push the fabric away from his face. The face, as she knew it would, belonged to Malkemen.  
  
Aranel practically collapsed into his arms, and fell into a deep, passionate kiss with her rescuer before she even realized what she was doing. It was Malkemen who first pulled away.  
  
"You have to get out of here, quickly," he said, as he turned away from her.  
  
"How can I ever repay you?"  
  
He looked back at her. "Run. Get as far away from here as you can."  
  
"Malkemen, I can't do that! Where would I go?"  
  
"Aranel, my father passed your final sentence today," Malkemen whispered. He drew her close and wrapped his strong arms around her. "You were to die tonight, at midnight. I couldn't bear to stand around and do nothing. I love you, Aranel, and I believe you. You did not mean to kill my brother."  
  
"But I did, Malkemen. I stabbed him with that knife. I deserve to die."  
  
He took a step back and looked deep into her eyes. A long moment passed before he spoke again. "You did what you had to do. Now run, and don't ever look back." 


	8. Not in any way about elven plushies (aka...

Aranel ran all day, and well into the night before she finally stopped to rest. She was scared and confused. How could all this have happened so fast? Sure, her life wasn't perfect, but she was happy where she was in Thranduil's home, spending her time with Legolas, Nimhithdil, and Malkemen.  
  
But now she could never go back. It was obvious that Legolas would never forgive her for killing Belegtathar. And Nimhithdil seemed just as mad at her. But then there was Malkemen. He believed her, or at least he said he did. Perhaps he could talk to the others, and try to explain her point of view…  
  
Or maybe he didn't believe her; just let her go in order to save someone he loved.  
  
…Someone he loved. Aranel hadn't stopped to think of that. She had kissed him, and he had said that he loved her. Did she love him as well? She couldn't tell; everything was too confusing.  
  
She stood, and continued to run to her unknown destination.  
  
  
  
Malkemen returned to the throne room, to find his brothers and father, arguing feverently. As he entered, Legolas turned to him.  
  
"Aranel is gone, Malkemen. And someone helped her escape."  
  
The prison guard was there as well. "I saw a hooded figure walking through the tunnels. Someone took my keys, and I'm sure that he did it!"  
  
The guard turned to the king, "Oh, your Majesty, I am so sorry I failed you!"  
  
Thranduil raised his hand. "Do not worry, this was not your fault. We will solve this mystery and find Aranel, along with whoever helped her escape."  
  
Thanduil ordered that a search for Aranel leave immediately, and that an investigation of her escape be conducted. Then he left the throne room, followed by Nimhithdil and the guard close on their heels. Legolas held back.  
  
"I know you helped her, Malkemen," he said.  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Where were you just now? We tried to find you when we first learned of the escape."  
  
"I was out on a walk," Malkemen answered, slightly annoyed. "You are accusing me of treason, brother?"  
  
Legolas did not answer. Just then Malkemen noticed that Legolas had his quiver with him.  
  
"Are you going somewhere?" he asked.  
  
"Rivendell," came the answer. "I have to explain to Lord Elrond about the mess we made." 


	9. A long awaited flashback

Aranel was crying when the sun rose the next morning. If Malkamen hadn't rescued her, she would have been dead now. The thought scared her. How did this come to pass? One day she was betrothed to the heir of Mirkwood and loved by the whole royal family, the next she was condemned to death by the man she considered her father. And here she was, a murderer.  
  
Indeed, how did this come to pass?  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Saruman the White was a very powerful wizard, and had always been a friend to elves, men, and all other creatures of Middle Earth. He had always known just what to do when a problem arose. So that is why Mithrandir rode to Isengard with a prisoner in tow.  
  
"Gandalf, my friend," the White wizard greeted him, using another of Mithrandir's many names, "I see you have managed to get yourself involved yet again."  
  
Gandalf dismounted from his horse, making sure to check that the ropes holding the recently subdued creature were still safely secured. "I come for your advice, Saruman. As of late there has been too much evil brewing in Mordor. I fear that something terrible is about to show itself."  
  
Saruman raised a grey eyebrow at his guest, "And what does this have to do with your companion?"  
  
"Gollum, I believe, has been corrupted by a great deal of Mordor's vile power. I seek your advice as to where I can place him so that he is not a danger to himself or anyone else."  
  
"Mordor's power?" Saruman asked. His interest peaked. "Power in what form?"  
  
Gandalf paused momentarily. A look of uncertainty crossed his face, but it was soon gone. "Of that I am not yet sure."  
  
Saruman nodded, and gave a friendly smile to his guest. "Come in then, come in. And bring your Gollum. We will find a suitable place for him, yes we will."  
  
(Okay, I know this is really short. But I was having a hard time trying to figure out where to go from here and the best way to figure that out is just to write. I have another chapter in the works, hopefully with a bit more meat, about what happens with Malkemen. I have a plan for him, but I have no idea what should happen to Aranel. Heh, any ideas would be welcome. ~Senna) 


End file.
